THE BLACK SPOT
by Bellegeste
Summary: Cruel humiliation for Snape as he suffers under the dreaded curse of The Black Spot. Talk Like a Pirate Day mini-challenge.


_**Disclaimer:**_ The characters belong to JK and her publishers. No copyright infringement intended etc etc

_**A/N:**_ I wrote this lighthearted ficlet as part of a mini-challenge for _Talk Like a Pirate Day_ 2009. It is set sometime in Harry's 6th year

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**THE BLACK SPOT**

"So what did the twins want?" Hermione held the door open for Ron as he trailed behind her in to Snape's classroom.

"Uh. Huh. What?" Despite just consuming a breakfast big enough to satisfy even Hagrid, Ron was still half asleep and barely functional. The prospect of double DADA with Snape did little to sharpen his faculties.

"That letter. Don't say you haven't opened it yet. Honestly, Ronald, if you spent less time eating and more time -"

"OK. OK. I've got it here. Somewhere." Ron rummaged in his pocket, producing a melted and misshapen Chocolate Frog, a piece of toast, fluffy but possibly still edible, his Quidditch mouth-guard and, finally, a crumpled blue envelope. Blazoned across the top in thick gold leaf, the triple W logo was unmistakable. Ron stared at the address and blinked.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," said Hermione. Then she too blinked as the handwriting on the envelope changed from vivid purple to pale apricot.

"Hey! Not bad." Ron blinked several more times in quick succession, watching as the script became red, then grey, ultramarine, cerise and indigo. "It's their new line – Bl**ink**. You see, every time you bl -"

"I think we get it, Ron," said Hermione with a laugh. For once, a Weasley product that was harmless and fun and useful too. As she glanced over his shoulder her smile froze. "Quick, you'd better put it away. Snape's coming."

"Weasley! Miss Granger! If you've nothing better to do than stand there batting your eyelids at each other, then you may as well sit your NEWTs now and save me months of aggravation. Sit down." Snape strode past them issuing orders as he went, and then without warning, pivoted round. "And I'll have that scribble while I'm about it. There'll be no note-passing in my class. Give." He held out his hand and Ron, gulping, handed over the offending envelope.

"But, Sir, you can't! That's personal," protested Hermione as Snape proceeded to rip open the seal and extract a gruesomely coloured greetings card. She caught a glimpse of the picture on the front: a skull and crossbones. Before her eyes Snape seemed to shrink in stature. He blenched, his hand shook and the card dropped to the flagstones.

"The Black Spot!" he whispered, his voice cracking.

Hermione bent to pick up the card.

"_Ahoy there Ronnikins_," she read. "_Happy Talk Like a Pirate Day_."

It was signed, _'Your shipmates, Fred and George'_.

She looked from the card to Snape and back again. He was still standing there, rooted to the spot, pale and shaking.

"I'm so sorry, Sir. It's the twins' idea of a joke. The card must have been jinxed. I'm sure it'll wear off in a minute."

"Belay thy blather, drivelswigging wench. The foul curse o' the Black Spot be no matter for jest. 'Tis the call o' Davy's Grip. Just wait till I run them scurvy blaggards to anchor. Begad, they'll dance wi' Jack Ketch afore the sun sets o'er the yard arm. They'll meet the rope's end for this. One hundred lashes wi' the cat – no quarter!"

A wave of laughter rippled through the classroom.

"Oh shut up, all of you," said Hermione. "Somebody go and fetch Dumbledore." Nobody moved. "Fine, I'll go myself. Look, make him sit down. Give him a glass of water."

"Aye, I could sink a hogshead o' grog. Splice the mainbrace! Break out the rum, ho!" Snape slammed an imaginary Black Jack onto the nearest desk.

Hermione rushed into the corridor.

"Neville!" she yelled, catching sight of a shambling form heading towards the stairs. "Hurry! Get Dumbledore. Snape's got the Black Spot."

Neville's bland features clouded and he tutted in sympathy.

"Ooh, that's a tricky one." He pondered. "I'd say you need a two-pronged attack: first you've got to destroy the infected leaves to reduce the number of spores, and then spray with a systemic fungicide. But if it's really got hold you might be better to replant with new root stock once you've removed the topsoil."

"_What?_" Hermione gaped at him.

"Snape's roses," he explained, looking at her as though she were the one making no sense. "The ones with Black Spot."

"Oh for goodness' sake. Just get Professor Dumbledore, will you? Tell him it's an emergency."

Leaving a bemused Neville to complete his errand she hurried back to the classroom only to find Snape struggling against the restraining grips of both Harry and Draco.

"He wants to go back to his briny barque," Ron told her in a low, anxious voice. "He's worried that the chase is making full sail and he needs to ride the tide before the wind turns south'ard. Whatever that means. And who's this 'Our Jim lad' he keeps on about?"

"Have you tried _Finite_?"

"Yes, but it made no difference. The moment Malfoy got out his wand Snape told him to stow his cutlass or he'd reef his earlobes, unfurl his lights and liver and string him from the mizzen with his guts for garters."

"Gangway!" shouted Snape. "Cast off! All hands hoay!"

Hermione stepped forward and gave Snape a sharp salute.

"Bosun Granger reporting for duty, Cap'n Snape. I'm afraid we can't weigh anchor until Cockswain Dumbledore is on board." She winked at Ron who also raised his arm in an unconvincing salute.

"Oooh arrrrrr! Shiver me timbers. Pieces of eight, me hearties," Ron mumbled, unable to look Snape in the face.

"Futtock shrouds! Who let this bilge-sucking addlepate join my crew?" exclaimed Snape. "Any more of that, ye lead swinging swab, and ye'll be kissing the gunner's daughter till you're scuppered."

Ron didn't like the sound of that at all. But he was saved from his flogging by the arrival of Dumbledore, closely followed by Neville and a red-faced and breathless Madame Pomfrey.

"I'm putting you all in quarantine," the matron declared, sealing the exit with a no-nonsense wave of her wand. "It may be a mutant strain of Dragon Pox. Keep your distance from the patient. It's highly contagious."

"Avast! Landlubbers ahoy!" cried Snape.

"I think there's been some mistake," said Hermione.

"I was told that Professor Snape was covered in black spots," said Madame Pomfrey. Neville, rather pink about the ears, sidled out of her line of sight. "Clearly I was misinformed."

"Which, my dear Poppy, is cause for relief, is it not?" said Dumbledore in a soothing tone. He turned towards Snape and performed a series of diagnostic sweeps of his wand to identify the jinx. "Hmmm… Oh dearie me. Most regrettable."

"Can you counteract it, Sir?" asked Hermione.

The headmaster's expression was grave. He stroked his beard.

"Actually, I can. Though Severus may not thank me for the remedy. Come, let us escort Professor Snape to the lake. The shock of immersion should bring him to his senses."

"You don't mean -?" Hermione was speechless.

"Indeed I do, Miss Granger. In order to break the jinx, Severus will have to walk the plank."

As she followed the jubilant dunking squad and the poor protesting pirate across the grass, Madame Pomfrey noticed a strange steely glint in the headmaster's eye.

"This is outrageous. Is it absolutely necessary, Professor?"

Dumbledore met her gaze head on.

"Walking the plank? It struck me as an eminently appropriate solution. Though," he continued mildly, "I dare say a cold shower would have been equally effective. Yo ho ho."


End file.
